From Fly Girl To...Mom

We were not trying to get pregnant but we definitely weren’t trying not to get pregnant either. ...

We were not trying to get pregnant but we definitely weren’t trying not to get pregnant either.

Before my son I would get up and run a steamy shower. Standing under the flow of near scalding hot water I would take a deep breath, let the water gently beat down on my face and chest to allow it to wake and relax me in preparation for a new day. Freshly showered and wrapped in a towel, I’d stand in my brightly lit vanity mirror, put in my clear contacts, paint some beautiful earth-tone shadows on my eyelids, extend my lashes, gloss my lips and take all the time I’d need to make sure my afro looked perfect. Finally, I’d put on a nice pencil skirt with a fitted top and some killer heels. My favorite was a red, high-waisted skirt that hugged every curve on my size 0 frame (don’t think being a size 0 means an absence of curves!) I’d wear it with a ruffled black top that was cut just low enough to entice the boys, and top it off with some 4 inch, peep toe leopard print stilettos.
After hours, you would have probably found me sitting Indian style in a big leather chair, seated in the window at my favorite Starbucks with my MacBook for editing photos, an iPod for rocking out and/or a journal for releasing. Just before getting pregnant, I had a brush cut that I dyed red. I got two piercings: my nose and the other--a hood piercing. I was sexy and confident. But, somewhere I lost that. 

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Somewhere between waking up every 2-3 hours to nurse my son and trying to salvage what few minutes of sleep I could I lost the Fly Girl in me. I gave her over to the sleep deprived mommy in me. I forsook her for a few fleeting moments of rest. But does it have to be that way? Can’t I be a Fly Girl and a mommy? A Fly mommy?! These days I lack the energy to put much effort into what I’m wearing.

Today I get up, jump in the shower, nurse my son, put on my glasses, skip the makeup and put on something that’s hardly worth looking at. I got my pre-pregnancy body back. I’m a size 0 again but I am definitely not my fly pre- pregnancy self. I feel like there’s only a shell left. I don’t remember the last time I looked at myself and felt pretty, not to mention fierce or sexy.

I remember my last attempt. I skinny jeaned and pumped it up but still felt flat. Clearly, it didn’t work. My nose and hood piercings have closed. The stilettos I once wore have been replaced by flats. Fitted skirts replaced by shapeless, floor length dresses—cute maxi dresses--but shapeless none the less. Exhausted from the restless night before, I drag myself out of bed for work every day and fight to stay awake. 

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After hours these days, you’re most likely to find me at home in a t-shirt and some sweats sitting on the floor or on the couch playing with my son. I try to turn back the hands of time and be the woman that first drew my partner in. 

I remember he’d get to the car or to where I was sitting and look at me with this mischievous grin on his face. I loved it! Joan Morgan writes in her book, “When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost”, of how much of a total drag it would be to not have a man “roam his eyes longingly over all the intended places.” Brian did that, and I ate up every second. It felt good to know the man I desired had a desire for me as well. I hardly ever get that look anymore. I mean, he’s good at telling me I’m pretty and that he thinks I’m amazing but I have a hard time feeling that way.

Recently, I stood with my head resting on his chest and cried. He didn’t realize I was crying until he lifted my face to kiss me. He asked what was wrong and I explained that I feel like an old maid. I never hang out with my friends anymore. I never get dressed up anymore and I never really go anywhere without my son. The only constant is that I’m almost always sure I don’t have plans to party or do anything recreational on any given weekend. I’m 31! That’s far too young to be an old maid!

You should know I definitely enjoy my son. There is nothing greater than the joy of seeing his smiling face and watching him grow! I love being a mother. But, I am also a woman trying to salvage her individuality and not allow being a mommy to overshadow my dreams, aspirations or hobbies.

I know that my tale is no different than any other mother that has a small child, but this is hard for me--this transition from fly to mom. I haven’t quite yet learned how to be a fly mom. I will wake up tomorrow put on my pencil skirt, my heels, do my makeup and remind myself all day long that I AM A FIERCE, I AM BEAUTIFUL and I AM A FLY MOM. Or, better yet, remind myself that these things are true no matter what I wear.

Deidre Clark is a mother, daughter, sister, friend, and artist currently residing in Birmingham, AL. She’s not a writer but enjoys journaling in addition to cooking, baking and encouraging people to use their own tools to tear down the mater’s house. You can find her on Twitter:

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